


Demise of the Little Dove

by queen_loser



Category: Fable (Video Games), Fable 2 (Video Game), Fable 3 (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, F/M, Female Hero of Bowerstone, Female Hero of Brightwall, My First Fanfic, The Darkness - Freeform, The Hero of Bowerstone is kinda old, and reaver, evil!Theresa, my take on how the hero of bowerstone died, reaver may or may not be the father of her children, sorry if it sucks, the hero of bowerstone loves her children, we may never know, what if the hero of bowerstone knew about the darkness before she died?, why is my first fic angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 11:31:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12320211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_loser/pseuds/queen_loser
Summary: To the world, she was Sparrow, Hero of Bowerstone, Queen of Albion. To him, she was Little Dove, his Little Dove, the one thing he loved, though he would never admit to it in a bid to protect his pride.Unfortunately for him, his pride would be the reason his Dove died not knowing the truth.





	Demise of the Little Dove

_“Sparrow!”_

_“Rose?”_

_“Sparrow, how could you?”_

_“What?”_

_“You let me die, Sparrow! How could you do that to your own sister?”_

_“I didn’t mean to-”_

_“You let the only person who ever cared about you die, Sparrow. How disgusting.”_

_“But, but I-”_

_“You couldn’t even bring me back to life in the Spire. You disgust me, Sparrow. You let your big sister and your only friend die for you, and you couldn’t even bring us back!”_

  _Silence. Sparrow could not say anything. All she could do was blink at her sister, who stared up at her with a deep hatred within her eyes._

_“Got nothing to say? That figures.”_

_And then, as if by magic, Rose’s previously pristine form turned to one of a nightmare; where she was shot in the head by Lucien became apparent, blood oozing out of the head wound and dripping down the side of her face. A sob escaped the young girl’s mouth and her demeanor changed._

_“Sparrow, help me, please! I’m dying, can’t you help me?” She begged, tears leaking out of her eyes as she clutched at the injury. Sparrow, feeling a sudden force of desperation attach to her, went to run over to her older sister, to help her in any way possible, but her feet refused to move. She was frozen in place, paralyzed, and all she could do was watch and listen to her sister beg for help._

_“Sparrow!” The child screamed in agony before disappearing into thin air. The Queen couldn’t even move her head to look around for her._

_“Rose?” She called, her voice quieter than she wanted it to be._

_“You let her die.” Came a deep, menacing voice from the darkness behind her. Sparrow couldn’t move to look._

_“No, I didn’t! There was nothing I could have done!”_

_“You let her die.”_

_“Stop!”_

_“You let her die. You let your beloved hound die. And soon, you’ll let your son and daughter die.”_

_“Stop it, please!”_

_“The darkness will rip Albion from your fingers. The children will eat your soul and shred the light in your country’s heart.”_

_“Shut up!”_

_“You will die alone, knowing no one loves you, knowing everyone blames you for what the darkness will do.”_

_Sparrow’s eyes squeezed shut as the venomous voice continued to taunt her, seemingly taking delight in her despair. When she became unresponsive, doing her best to imagine happy things and friendly people, the voice grew tired of spitting venom at her; instead, it took it upon itself to make itself visible in front of her, breathing heavy as it stood so close that she could hear what she thought was it’s heartbeat. Hesitantly, she pulled her eyelids open, only to immediately regret it; the… beast in front of her was so horrifying, so unreal that a scream tore from her throat, and in a split second she felt a sting of hot pain in her stomach as the thing disappeared, it’s laughter still echoing in her ears._

It was then that she awoke, the same scream in her dream happening in real life, scaring her sleeping partner awake.

“Dove?!” Reaver screeched, his icy blue eyes alert as he grabbed onto her arm, only scaring her further.

“Let go of me! Stop, please, just leave me alone!” She pleaded, still not quite aware that her dream was over.

Thinking fast, Reaver pinched her soft skin, his forefinger and thumb refusing to leave her skin until she finally calmed down. He knew what was wrong with her, he knew what nightmare had scared her so badly, because she had had the same one for three months straight. She always woke up the same way; screaming, crying, delusional, she was a hot mess. No matter what she did to try and chase the dream away, it always appeared to her at night, stubbornly refusing to leave the queen be. Reaver had even taken it upon himself to find some sort of potion that could give her good dreams, or could at least stop her from dreaming period, but nothing had worked. Something was truly wrong with his Little Dove, and it wasn’t just her subconscious acting up, it couldn’t be.

After a group of guards, accompanied by an exhausted-looking Jasper had bursted into the room, all too aware that Reaver was sharing their queen’s bed with her, Sparrow finally calmed down. She tearfully ushered them out of the room, refusing Jasper’s offer of tea, and locked the door. This happened nightly, and each time she was absolutely humiliated that she had worried her guards and personal butler so much over nothing but a dream. Showing weakness wasn’t something the stubborn queen was proud of.

“I’m sorry.” She murmured to Reaver as she crawled back into her bed, refusing to make eye contact with the man.

“For what?” He asked, his voice much softer than usual as he went to cup her cheek.

“Don’t play games, you know what.” She snapped, slapping his hand away. She knew that her awful nightmare wasn’t his fault, and it wasn’t fair for her to take out her aggravation on him, but at the moment she didn’t really care. Neither did Reaver, it would appear.

“The dream’s getting worse, isn’t it, Little Dove?” Reaver observed, eyeing the left side of the woman’s head. It was then that she dared to look at him, her green eyes watery as she forced herself to nod.

“How did you know?”

“It took you ten whole minutes to become aware of your surroundings this time. Last night, it took you five. The night before last, it took thirty seconds.”

Sparrow sniffled; she was so tired of that stupid dream, so tired of seeing that monster appear in front of her face just so he could give her a good fright. One would think that since she had the same dream every night, she would be used to it, but unfortunately that wasn’t the case. There was just something about that voice, that face… not to mention seeing her sister after Lucien shot the defenseless girl. The whole thing was dreadful, and she was anxious to find _something_ to stop the damn dream.

That morning, sometime after Reaver slipped out in a bid to not be caught by the rest of her castle, Sparrow noticed the circles under her eyes had gotten darker. A result of her restless sleep, she supposed. Not only that, but in the three months since the dreams had started, her hair started to gray more than it already had been. She wasn’t a young woman, but her Hero blood had been keeping her from looking like the fifty-eight year old that she was. Until the dreams started, that is. Now, she found herself looking like an undesirable forty-something year old woman, and she feared that the man who had bedded her for twenty-seven years would take a good look at her and leave. The man being Reaver, of course.

Ah Reaver, the biological father of her children, the only man who she ever truly loved. Their relationship was a secret from most people, except for Jasper and the few guards who had walked in on them sharing a bed. Even her own two children didn’t know that Sparrow and Reaver were far more than acquaintances; they believed their father was her deceased husband, a man who she never loved but married just so she keep the nobles of Albion happy. He had died a couple of years back from some sort of sickness that Sparrow had been lucky enough not to catch.

Back to Reaver; the man looked like he was in his mid twenties, when in reality he was hundreds of years older than her. That was probably the only reason she continued on with their affair, because she knew that he really wasn’t some immature boy who would go bragging to his friends about sleeping around with an older woman. An older woman who happens to be the queen.

Neither Reaver nor Sparrow dared to tell one another of their true feelings. Perhaps it was because they both feared rejection. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because they both knew that one day Sparrow would outlive Reaver, and he would be alone. The ladder was the true culprit, in all honesty.

A knock on Sparrow’s door snapped her back into reality.

“Mum?” Jasper greeted her softly, poking his head in from behind the door. He looked concerned, probably afraid that he was disturbing an irritable Sparrow. She simply smiled over at him, showing him that she was over her bad dream. The smile was fake.

“Yes, Jasper?” She asked, turning to face him as he walked fully into the room.

“Will you be attending breakfast with the family this morning, mum?”

Sparrow’s bottom lip became trapped under her upper teeth as she thought about facing her two children, who were probably just as disturbed about her nightmare as Jasper had been.

“I think I’ll be eating in my room today.”

Jasper nodded understandably. “I thought you might say that.”

And with that, he pulled in a silver cart, topped with a platter that held her breakfast. He knew his queen far too well.

“Thank you, Jasper.” Sparrow smiled, chuckling softly as she wandered over to the cart. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was before the smell of bacon had entered her room.

“Not a problem, mum. You know where to find me if you need anything.” He responded, bowing graciously before taking his leave.

Once he was gone, the queen turned her attention to her breakfast, which was simply porridge, toast, and two strips of bacon; her absolute favorite. Her children often joked that she had the appetite of an old woman, and she would often remind them that she was an old woman.

“You don’t look a day over twenty, so it doesn’t count.” Her daughter, Rosie, would often tell her.

“You could pull off being our older sister if we’re honest, mother.” Logan would add in.

“Hush, you two.” Sparrow would say, effectively ending the conversation.

She loved her children, they were everything to her; Logan, with his stony exterior and heart of gold, and Rosie, with her wild sense of humor and gorgeous smile. Neither of them were like their father, and if Sparrow was being honest with herself, she wanted to keep it that way. As much as she loved Reaver, he wasn’t exactly a good person. He was a selfish man who had made many mistakes that he refused to admit were indeed mistakes. One would wonder why any woman, or man, would fall for him. The answer is simple. There was something about him that made him...likeable. He was dangerous and unpredictable, but he was charismatic and eccentric, too. When Sparrow took the time to get to know him, she realized that there was a reason why he was so messed up, that there was a heart under that glass skeleton. Despite the fact that he wasn’t a good person, that didn’t change the fact that he _was_ a person.

The Hero of Bowerstone smiled as she thought of her loved ones, thought of how much they meant to her, and realized how hard life would be without them. They meant everything to her, and to lose them was a thought so unthinkable that Sparrow forced it from her mind. It was bad enough she dreamt of her beloved sister hating her for her death, anyways.

Since she was so wrapped in her thoughts, and too busy stuffing her mouth with perfectly cooked porridge, she didn’t notice the brand new presence that was standing directly behind her. She didn’t see the cloaked woman surveying the room, despite the fact that this woman was blind. She did, however, hear when the woman cleared her throat, causing the queen to jump from her seat and raise her fists in a defensive stance, only to lower them when she spotted Theresa.

“Theresa? What on earth are you doing here?” She demanded to know; she hadn’t seen Theresa in decades, not since Sparrow herself killed Lucien to avenge her older sister. Theresa had said she was going to stay in the Spire, what the hell was she doing in Sparrow’s castle?

“I know about the dreams.” Said Theresa in her mystic voice, not even bothering to say “hi” or “how are you?”. This wasn’t unnatural of her, so Sparrow let it go.

“How am I not surprised that you know about them?” The queen joked, attempting to lighten the mood. Her attempt, of course, failed. Theresa wasn’t exactly a cheery person.

“Sparrow, your dreams are based on substance. There is a darkness, and it will come to Albion in time.”

The Hero blinked at Theresa, pursing her lips and crossing her arms. Again, she wasn’t surprised at the seer’s straight forwardness, but she _was_ surprised that her dreams weren’t just her mind playing tricks on her.

“Are you sure?” The Hero questioned.

“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have come here.”

“Well, what do we do?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing can be done, not at the present moment. The darkness will not come for several years, Sparrow. You need not worry about it.”

Sparrow was aghast that Theresa would say something like this to her.

“With all due respect, you’re not the one who suffers from nightly dreams about whatever the hell this darkness is!” She cried.

Theresa didn’t bat an eyelash.

“I’m aware, Sparrow. I have a way to rid you of those dreams, however. And when the time comes for us to worry about this darkness, I will be here.” The blind seer explained calmly.

“You have a way to take the dreams away? Really?”

“Yes. This is the main reason I came here.”

The queen began gnawing on her bottom lip, the thought of those dreams leaving her better than a sweetroll. Finally, she would get some sleep, and perhaps look presentable again, and never have to witness her sister begging her for help anymore. But even though she was ecstatic at being rid of the dream, something in the back of her mind unsettled her.

“You’re sure you can take the dreams from me?” She had to make sure.

“Yes, Sparrow.” Theresa answered, a hint of impatience growing in her voice.

“Alright. What are you going to do?” Whatever had unsettled her a moment ago was beginning to beat in her ear more clearly, but she ignored it.

“Turn around and close your eyes. Relax, child.” The seer instructed, her voice void of any emotion. Even the impatience had disappeared.

The Dove turned around, the beating in her ear growing heavier and heavier, and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, wondering if whatever the hell Theresa was going to do was going to be painful, and began to wait.

She didn’t have to wait long for Theresa to pierce her chest with a blade that was far too short to be a sword.

 The blade was plunged through the place where Theresa knew her heart lived under, and in one swift moment it was pulled from the gasping queen, who fell to her knees and began to clutch at her chest.

 “I’m sorry.” Theresa blankly apologized, tucking the dagger into her cloak and turning to the door, which she wasted no time in walking out of, leaving Sparrow on her own.

 The Little Dove didn’t have time to curse Theresa’s name or to chew herself out for ignoring the beating. In fact, she didn’t have time to wonder how her death would impact Albion, or think about how much blood was probably staining her white carpet. All she had time to think about were her loved ones. Logan, Rosie, and Reaver. All she could see were their smiles and their eyes, and then she was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, hi, that was sad. Yeah, so while this isn't technically my first fanfiction (I wrote really shitty Twilight fanfics eighty-four years ago) I'm going to say it is because my others were horrendous. Anyways, part two will be up shortly, and I may or may not put this in a series. I don't know, it depends on how people like it. Whether or not you do like it, thanks for giving it the time of day and reading it!
> 
> P.S. I wrote this on google docs and it looked way longer there. Oh well.


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